


It's the Spaces in Between That Draw Us Closer Together

by misura



Category: Fastlane
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this where you tell me you've got, like, a crush on me since fifth grade or something? 'cause honestly, that'd be kind of sweet. Pathetic, but sweet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Spaces in Between That Draw Us Closer Together

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Van & or / Deaq, undercover in prison_ (johnnygirl51)

_I don't like this place,_ Van thought, mostly because thinking _I don't like it_ was better than thinking _I'm scared stiff_. More in-character, too, so, really, it wasn't so much a matter of denial, denial, denial as it was a win-win: keep playing the part, and don't feel too bad.

_I don't like this place._

_I don't like these clothes._

_And I really,_ really _hate cops._

 

(two days earlier)

"Orange jumpsuits just ain't my style, know what I'm saying?" Deaq had said, two days earlier, and Van had nodded, hearing _if it's all the same to you, I'd rather pass up on this one_.

"Yeah, that color really clashes with your eyes," he said.

"Exactly." Deaq gave him a look. "Now you, on the other hand."

"What can I say: I put on a trashbag, suddenly everyone thinks trashbags make you good-looking," Van said. "It's a curse, I'm telling you."

Deaq chuckled a little, but it was more his _'dude, my BS meter is ringing off the hook right now'_ chuckle and less his _'that's an excellent sense of humor you've got there, partner'_ one.

"Just remember that only because you can, that ain't no reason to actually do it."

"Hey, I know style, all right? I _breathe_ style. Look at this shirt, right here." Van couldn't remember where he'd gotten it, exactly. It looked expensive, though. It probably had been.

"That shirt just tells me you got no taste, man," Deaq said. "That, or you're color-blind."

Van put on his _'I can't believe you said that; now my feelings are hurt'_ face. It had never particularly impressed Deaq before, but hope sprung eternal, practice made perfect and a guy could always try. "You're the one who's got no taste."

"You don't want to do this any more than I want to, don't you?" Deaq asked.

Probably, it had been the less than snappy come-back that had tipped the scales from 'reasonable doubt' to 'outright suspicion'. "I want to get these guys. Don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Deaq said, "but - "

"This is how we do that," Van said. _Billie's done this. For real._ Of course, Billie'd also almost been killed. _Nobody's going to be gunning for me. I'm just going to blend in. I'm good at blending in._

_I can do this._

"You want to grab some dinner later?" Deaq said, which either meant he was dropping the matter for now, or saving it for later. It boilt down to the same thing, really: if Van said yes, they were going to talk about prison some more.

On the other hand, if he said no, he'd be eating by himself, as usual. Van kind of liked eating by himself. It was the one time of the day he sort of felt like he didn't need to pretend to be someone else. "Yeah, sure, let's do that."

 

"This place is - " Deaq looked around the room, his gaze halting at the waitress with the big hat. As Van had known it would. "Are those - "

_Look, a distraction!_ "Sure are," Van said. "They actually taste pretty good, too. So, you know, if you're especially hungry or if your meal's taking too long to arrive, you can always give her a whistle. Her name's Imelda; she's really nice."

Deaq sighed and shook his head. "Players gonna play, huh?"

"What?" Van grimaced. "No. We just talked, man."

"Bet you got her phone number. Let me guess: she forced you to take it, you totally didn't ask."

"I _didn't_ ask, and she didn't give it to me," Van said. "Now, can we talk about something else? Anything else? Please? I'm feeling like I'm with a fifteen year old or something."

Deaq shrugged. "I thought you didn't want to talk about this new assignment but if that's how you wanna roll, then fine. You worried some homie is gonna make you his bitch or what?"

_No._ "Hey, pretty face, hot body - who wouldn't want to get with this?"

"Imelda, for one." Deaq grinned. "Me, for two."

"Seriously?" Van asked. "You bunk with me, you wouldn't even be tempted, just a bit?"

Deaq's expression turned a little uncomfortable, which didn't make sense, given that one, they'd never bunked together and two, if Deaq swung that way _at all_ , Van would've known about it.

Van chuckled and snagged an olive. "Is this where you tell me you've got, like, a crush on me since fifth grade or something? 'cause honestly, that'd be kind of sweet. Pathetic, but sweet."

It was a classic strategy: blow something out of proportion. Make it funny. Laugh it off, and move on.

"You didn't know me in fifth grade," Deaq said, which was no kind of answer.

"Don't think we'd have gotten along very well."

"No, we wouldn't have," Deaq agreed, "but we're partners now. We've got each other's back. So it's all good, yeah? All's well, that ends well. And fine, I will confess - under duress, mind, that if it comes to some banger I don't even know or me, I'll be happy to make that sacrifice for you. 'cause that's what partners do for one another."

_Yeah, and I'm the Easter Bunny._ "Cool," said Van.

"This is where you say you'd do the same for me."

"Ah well, not like it's ever gonna happen, is it?" Van snagged another olive. "So why worry about it?"

"Oh, I see, so that's how it's going to be, huh?" Deaq shook his head. "Me trying to have a serious conversation, and you just fooling around."

"It's nerves. I'm nervous." _There. The truth. You happy now?_

"Naw, you're usually like this, really," Deaq said. "You being a punk, that's not nerves. That's just you being you. And hey man, what you got to be nervous about?"

That was Deaq for you: deny everything with one breath, then admit to the same everything the next.

Probably a good thing Deaq had actually _been_ a criminal for a while; he'd never have been able to pull off faking being one otherwise.

"It's just a dumb feeling. Like, if I get inside, I might not be able to get out again. Like I'll get trapped or something," Van added, because he spotted Deaq opening his mouth to protest he and Billie'd be watching, that nothing bad should be able to happen to Van while inside. "Dumb."

"Yeah," Deaq said. "I mean, you know the only way I'm not coming for you is if I'm dead."

"Now there's a cheerful thought."

"I'm serious, man."

Van sighed. "I know you are. Forget it, all right? It's fine. I'll be fine. You're right."

"Usually," Deaq said. "Hey, what say you come over to my place tonight? We'll watch a movie or something."

"Like a sleep over or something? Now who's acting like a teenager?"

"Call it what you want. You in or not?"

Van pictured going to prison for real, meeting Deaq as his cellmate. Sticking with him, because in prison, you needed friends. People to watch your back. People you could trust.

"Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

"That's the spirit."


End file.
